


To Love Past Your Pain

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Series: The Last Soul Sam Ever Touched [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthrogryposis, British Men of Letters, Bunker Feels, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Destiny, Disability, Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fate & Destiny, Feels, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love, M/M, Magic, Mary Lives, Mary Winchester Feels, Men of Letters, Men of Letters Bunker, Old Souls, Parent Mary Winchester, Past Lives, Physical Disability, Post-Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, Protective Mary Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Reincarnation, Resurrected Mary Winchester, Rituals, Romance, Sam Has Issues, Sam Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam in Love, Sam-Centric, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Souls, Spells & Enchantments, Telekinesis, Telepathy, True Love, Wheelchairs, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: In this sequel to The Last Soul Sam Ever Touched, the relationship between Sam Winchester and Amy Sullivan, a woman in a wheelchair with telekinetic and psychic powers strong enough to make her a skilled hunter, is revisited two years after battling Abaddon. Never did it occur to Sam that he'd ever see his mother again, yet there she appeared to rescue him after Toni from the British chapter of the Men of Letters had tortured him. Now he must cope with not only his mother's resurrection but the unexpected mental damage torture did to him. The harder he tries to hide his suffering from his family, the further his soul spirals back in time, remembering another past life shared with Amy that just might give him answers to stop Lucifer in the present. For the Winchester son who only wanted a normal life, it seems like the harder Sam tries with Amy, the more he delves into the supernatural world. All he can hope for is that Amy can handle him long enough to build a life together. Can she cope with Sam's inner demons? Can he cope with having a hunter in the family with a disability? And will Mary find her place in the family again? (Diverges from canon at episode 2 of season 12.)





	

Lying in bed and staring at the bunker ceiling was the exact opposite of Amy Sullivan's plan for the day. Sam was missing. Stolen out from under her nose downstairs while she'd slept days before. She should have been up and doing something - anything - to help Dean find him. Instead, her body had given out, weakened by the stress of her love of two years stolen from her, and she had no choice but to trust Dean and Castiel to find him.

Amy twirled the iPhone in the air a few feet above her bed. The thing that made her straddle the divide between humanity and celestial power gave her the power to move objects with her mind and, if she concentrated enough, she heard people's thoughts. Tendrils of power from her mind twisted and twirled the phone over her head out of sheer boredom. If she got any texts from Dean or Castiel, she'd see the phone light up right away. She wasn't about to lie there all afternoon as long as Sam was stolen. If there was something she could do....

"Are you avake, Miss Amy?"

It was Sasha, the German witch Amy had hired a year ago to help her when she couldn't hunt with the Winchester boys. Dean, of course, had been skeptical at best and downright hostile at worst until Amy proved a witch was vital for protecting her when they were gone. What if Rowena broke into the bunker? Or even Crowley? All it took was proving Amy could restrain Sasha and drain her power by her telekinesis alone to make Dean more comfortable with a live-in caregiver who also happened to be a natural witch. In Germany and in France, natural witches were thick like fleas on mules. They looked down on weak American witches who had to sell their souls to gain just the slightest magical powers, which were generally regarded as illusions put on by the demons controlling their souls.

"Miss Amy?" Sasha prompted again in her northern German accent. "Vould you like to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," Amy replied, still spinning the iPhone over her bed.

"Ja, I assume as much but Mr. Sam make me promise you stay strong."

"He should've been home days ago. We were going to look at a new set of furniture and take the bigger room down the hall this week."

Sasha tucked blonde curly hair behind her ear and sat on the edge of Amy's bed. "Have you heard anyzing new?"

"Only the text from Dean two days ago saying Sam was taken by the British chapter of the Men of Letters. Nothing new since then. I know he's hiding something. He was blocking off his brain from the text so I couldn't see anything through it. If I had something to touch, I'd know more. One day he's going to have to stop coddling me like the defenseless girl in a wheelchair he thinks I am." As she spoke, Amy's focused eyes led her phone to the bedside table, having grown bored with that too.

"It vas a big step, Mr. Dean letting you move into bunker after demon queen destroy medic house," offered Sasha. "Zis takes time for him. Mr. Sam vill alvays take up for you."

"Group home."

"Hm?"

"The words you're looking for are group home, not medic house."

"Oh, danke. Group home."

Nodding, Amy took her promise seriously to help Sasha learn better English. She sighed. "Sam promised I'd never have to go back to living in group homes even if he got killed on the job. I just didn't think that possibility would be here so soon."

"Mr. Sam does brave and dangerous vork," confirmed Sasha as if Amy needed the reassurance. She stood and brought the wheelchair to her bedside with practiced ease. "Come to kitchen. I make goulash for dinner ze awful Hungarian vay just how you like it."

"What a sacrifice for you," Amy said through a small attempt at a grin. "If you make me Hungarian goulash, I'll give you another psychometry lesson."

"It's a deal," replied Sasha.

The German witch and live-in companion made amiable conversation as she slid Amy's body to the edge of her bed, readying for the transfer into her worn and used wheelchair. It had taken quite a beating over the last two years, especially last summer when Amy took on a vampire nest with the Winchester brothers.

And then things got far too complicated when God and his sister Amara took out their sibling rivalry on the planet Earth and the human race. Dean had volunteered to throw himself on the sword and carry a bomb to kill Amara in the end, something Sam had to wrestle with alone after deciding the situation was too dangerous for Amy. They had parted tearfully, the three of them, while Castiel kept trying to convince Dean that he should go and die with him. Selfishly, Amy couldn't stand the thought of losing Castiel on top of a man she regarded as her brother-in-law in everything except name. Castiel had been a true friend to her after only an initial bout of suspicion in the first days that Sam had brought her to the bunker.

Only a couple of days ago, Dean reappeared in the bunker with a blonde woman that he'd said was his mother but there was no time for questions. Dean immediately took over searching for Sam once Amy and Castiel pieced the story together for him - someone had kidnapped the younger Winchester brother after shooting him. It was the most terrifying and confusing time in Amy's life thinking Dean sacrificed his own life to save humanity and then facing the possibility that Sam had been killed as well. Just a few days ago everything hit like a freight train and yet it felt like months alone, roaming around the bunker with a German witch who had been her hired companion for the better part of a year. At least she wasn't alone. At least Sasha remained with her through everything. If the Winchester brothers never came home - and one day it might end that way - Amy still had someone in her corner.

But Amy wasn't ready to go down without fighting for Sam's life. They'd already died by blood and tragedy and fire once. Sharing past lives and being two of eighteen human souls per generation chosen to reincarnate and become more celestial than human over time gave them a bond - and extrasensory powers - that no one else could understand. In 1944, Sam was named Jack and Amy was called Mae, and they were killed together in the London blitz after working as Allied spies against the Nazis.

She hadn't thought about her past with Sam in months. After all, he was the one who carried those memories, not her. The only thing Amy knew for certain was that Sam wouldn't endure a bloody, violent death twice in less than a century.

Still, Amy wondered about the rest of their five hundred year history. Was it a pattern for them? A curse? Were Sam any Amy destined to die violently every time they came together?

The German witch had her back turned and stirred spices into a bubbling pot while Amy sat at the bunker's stainless steel kitchen table. Amy noticed the spice mixture she used. It certainly wasn't lost on her that Sasha mixed ingredients into the pot that promoted better circulation in Amy's body as well as ingredients meant to relax her nerves. Although Amy wasn't a witch, she'd been picking up knowledge here and there. It was hard not to when a woman kept a witch for a live-in companion. Sasha took lessons in psychometry and Amy took lessons in herbal medicine. Food never tasted any different when prepared with spells, of course, but every meal did its work.

"Sasha, what do you know about reincarnation?" blurted Amy.

Her posture stilled over the pot of goulash. "You mean life again?"

"Yeah, that."

"Is not common business. Vhy?"

"What if someone knew for certain they had a history of past lives? Do you know any spells or magic to look into a soul's past?"

Sasha, still holding the wooden spoon wet and stained with cooking goulash, peered at Amy over her shoulder as if she suggested committing a sin just a few steps down from murder.

"You do know, don't you?"

"Nein," replied Sasha, going back to her cooking. "Don't ask me, Miss Amy."

*****

It was one of those rare nights when not even the Impala's familiar rumble down a country highway did little to temper Sam Winchester's nerves. He tested his right foot in the boot again, still not believing that Castiel healed torture burns down to his bones. No pain. The gashes on his chest and face were gone too. Everything about the torture Toni had inflicted on him was gone, at least on his body. The angel in the front seat next to Dean couldn't erase the mental damage. Some things only humans could heal in their own minds if they were strong enough.

Nothing could have ever prepared Sam for the person sitting next to him in the backseat of the Impala. Her soft blonde hair looked faintly gray like threads of silver running through gold. Much of her profile resembled Dean's but there - just there - Sam saw himself around the shape of her eyes and the straight line of her nose. The last time he'd seen his mother, she'd been a ghost. Dead. No blood or flesh to hug, kiss, or share meals with around the family table. But there she was sitting next to him in his father's car, the same car she knew when she dated John, before Sam and Dean were even glimmers in their eyes. In truth, Sam thought she was another hallucination when she appeared in that farmhouse cellar to save Dean and him from the British Men of Letters. She was just ... there. Alive. Like she'd never been killed in a ball of demon fire when he was only six-months-old.

"M-mom?" Sam's voice came out hoarse and hesitant.

Mary's eyes pulled from the highway ahead and focused on him. A tiny smile plumped her lips but she had trouble accepting the idea that an angel could heal all of his wounds with just a touch and she kept asking if he was in pain.

That wasn't Sam's concern in the moment, however. "Am I ... am I what you thought I'd be?"

"You're my son," her soft voice replied. There was no hesitation in it. "Even if I wanted hunting to stop with my children, you've grown up strong and you have all the morals and compassion I wanted for you."

"But am I--"

"--You're my son." Taking his hand so gently as if she still couldn't believe he was healed, Mary leaned a fraction closer. "I think it's going to take time to figure everything out."

"Yeah. That's true." Sam swallowed hard, remembering what it was like every time he'd been brought back from the dead. He couldn't think about that, so he veered his thoughts in another direction. "Did you really see Amy before you found me?"

"Only a couple of minutes. We were gone again as soon as Castiel called with a lead."

It was uncharted territory asking his mother about his girlfriend. "How was she?" It wasn't exactly what he wanted to ask but this was a language Sam didn't speak yet.

"Frightened. Very much in love with you. Pretended to be braver about it than she was."

"Oh...."

One corner of Mary's mouth lifted. "I was a girl that age once too. It's easy to see through her."

"Sam, you really ought to call her now that you're safe," said Castiel without looking back.

Dean chortled, speaking for the first time in hours. "Way to be subtle, Cas."

"I will next time we get gas," said Sam.

The truth was he didn't want to face Amy without being a whole man. Toni had lodged something loose in him with her torture no matter how strong he fought against it, something old and healed over, and then his dead mother suddenly appeared like a resurrected miracle. She hadn't seen him that undone before and he feared giving her more than she could bear. In a way, he considered the idea that it was easier for her to still count him missing than to stew in his torture by herself there in the bunker. She had Sasha, of course, but it was cold comfort. It made Sam remember how he replayed Jess' tortured death in his waking mind and his sleeping dreams over and over again for months. Yes, Sam was alive but he knew Amy would think about nothing short of the bombs falling in 1944 and how she'd been pinned under furniture and paralyzed while her flat burned. She'd revert to blaming herself for their pain and suffering again. It was kinder to spare her of the truth until they could work through it together in person.

Still, Sam flipped his phone over and over in his hand as the Impala rumbled toward the Kansas border.


End file.
